


T'uh Negotia’thor

by CorellianSea



Series: Prompts | Challenges [5]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Protective!Han, Sick!Luke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6465268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorellianSea/pseuds/CorellianSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">“How about saying something along the lines of ‘I’m too sick’ or maybe– oh I dunno. ‘I’m literally dying’? Because you look like you’re about halfway there, kid.”</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	T'uh Negotia’thor

 

 

“How about saying something along the lines of _‘I’m too sick’_ or maybe — oh, I dunno. _‘I’m literally dying’_? 'cause you look like you’re about halfway there, kid.”

“Wow, t’anks,” Luke mumbled out before bringing a clean towel up to face so he could hopefully blow his nose. He blew, he _really_ tried to. However, instead of the pressure being relieved from his sinuses, a weak honking noise was produced, and he glared at Han to not laugh while at the same time dealing with the strain that grew in his nose.

Han had laughed anyway. Loudly, too.

“I haf to get d’his speech dhown or else Leia’s gu’nna kill me… T’uh Anzanti people need t’uh Alliance! I’m a Jedi, Hahn. A Negotia’thor.”

“Yeah well—!” Han spluttered, throwing his arms up, “You need bed rest! This is just stupid. Jedi or not, you’re just human in the end. Look at yourself, kid! You’re sweatin’ more than when I did my first time to Tatooine. The Anzanni are just gonna hav’ta understand if you can’t make it to the signing of the treaty.”

“T’uh _Anzanti_.” Luke corrected.

“The An– _whatever_.” The spacer rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat that was next to the medbay cot. Luke had ended up being swaddled tightly by Han with extra blankets he ordered from the sickbay, _much_ to his annoyance. He tried to explain that people needed these supplies more than him, that he was a lot stronger than he looked. However, Han held his ground firmly, ever so unforgiving on the matter now as he was then when he'd barraged Luke with his rampant complaints, ignoring every protest the younger shot back.

The Jedi barely managed to keep a hold of his data pad, much less keep it still enough for him to read. For what could be the fiftieth time, he complained about it. “How am I gu’nna memhorize d’his if you only let _w’hon_ of my hands free!”

“Hey! Not more complainin’,” Han nearly barked at him and crossed his arms gruffly. “I’m already cuttin’ you slack 'n lettin' you hold that stupid monologue in your hand instead of holding _my_ hand.”

“You are a chi’yuld.” Luke dropped the pad to reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose. “You’re so annoying.”

“If it works in getting you to not go, then it _works_. That’s all that matters. I got 9 standard hours to annoy you too. At least up until the point you accept the fact you’re not going.”

Luke squinted at him from behind his gloved hand. “You can’t be serious.”

 

_“Try me.”_


End file.
